


She Spills, You Score

by t_dactyl



Series: She Spills [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_dactyl/pseuds/t_dactyl
Summary: Kara is kinda stressed and just wanted froyo. Lena is gay and flustered by Kara and just wants to help and maybe her number. Lots of gay feelings.orYou dropped your frozen yogurt on the sidewalk and you’re crying and i’m the only one around to witness this um do you want me to buy you another one au





	

**Author's Note:**

> so like, i haven't written anything in a while (rip my wips, i'm still tryin) but i've basically become obsessed with supercorp and then i saw this au and it needed to be done. also i'm shit at titles so like, yolo my dudes, who cares  
> ALSO, i haven't been in a frozen yogurt shop in a while (like 3 years maybe) so forgive me on how vague it might sound lmao
> 
> and no beta, we die like lesbians

It’s unusual that you would find yourself walking down the streets of downtown National City, but on a day like today, you couldn’t find it in you to sit in the car. After a morning full of meetings with stuffy businessmen and folder after folder of spreadsheets and quarterly reports, you could use the fresh air. So instead of having your driver pick you up and drop you at your favorite restaurant for lunch, you’ve opted to walk and take in the beautiful sunny day.

 

This whim is how you find yourself witness to what will be one of your most life changing moments imaginable.

 

Just as you turn the corner leading toward National City Park (a little out of the way for you, but you wanted to see the greenery of early spring before you have to spend the rest of your day slaving in front of your computer) you catch sight of a person that you could easily mistake for an angel.

 

Her blonde hair is pulled back from her face and seems to shimmer in the afternoon sun. The rays hit her as if purposefully illuminating perfection, but seem all too dim in comparison to the radiance of her smile. Her cute glasses cause a glare in the sun, keeping you from seeing the color of her eyes, but you know that they’re probably sparkling as well. She’s like something out of a dream as she steps out of a frozen yogurt shop, a full cup of the frozen treat lovingly cradled in front of a pastel button down.

 

You try not to stare, but with you two seeming to be the only people on this street and with her looking as amazing as she does, you can’t help it that your eyes seem to stick to her.

 

She makes her way down the street, coming in your direction, and you can tell that she is utterly absorbed in her froyo. She doesn’t notice your staring and she most definitely does not notice the very large crack in the pavement (what is soon to be her downfall).

 

Seemingly in slow motion, you watch as one of her very cute flats gets caught in the uneven sidewalk and she trips. Her arms pinwheel for a moment as she stumbles and that’s all it takes for the cup piled high with frozen yogurt to go toppling to the ground, her treat now a mess on the concrete.

 

The woman rightens herself quickly, but just as quickly drops to her knees in front of her ruined frozen yogurt. The look of devastation on that once happy face stops you in your tracks and you watch in silent horror as tears begin to slide down her cheeks and drip from her chin.

 

As if forced into action by her tears, you jog as quickly as you can in your heels toward her, sidestepping the mess of froyo and crouching down next to her.

 

“Oh no,” you start, nothing like the cool and collected businesswoman you portray yourself as in the office, “Miss, are you alright? I saw you trip, did you hurt yourself?”

 

A loud sniffle is your answer as tearful, but somehow still stunning, blue eyes turn to meet yours.

 

“I-I just- Today has been a lot, like, really just horrible, and then Snapper yelled at me and I've just been so stressed, and this froyo was supposed to be my pick me up treat and now it's  _ ruined _ . And everything is just so  _ much _ right now and I just-”

 

Her rambling dissolves once again into sobbing and you feel an unexpected ache in your chest for this obviously harrowed woman. 

 

“Oh god,” she groans while wiping at her cheeks, “I must look so pathetic, crying in the street over frozen yogurt and spilling all my problems to a stranger.”

 

She still looks so distressed and you don’t even stop to think about what you do next (which is odd for someone like you, who tends to overthink everything).

 

“Hey, no no no, it’s okay, you seem to be under a lot of stress, I understand. How about I buy you another one? Would that help even a little bit?”

 

“W-what?” she looks up at you, surprised, with tears still staining her cheeks.

 

You smile as kindly as you can as you answer, “Let me buy you another frozen yogurt. Anything you want, any size, as many toppings as you want, on me.”

 

“O-oh no, I couldn’t let you do that, you don’t even  _ know  _ me!”

 

Standing from your crouch, you hold your hand out to her to help her stand as well, “My name’s Lena Luthor. And what kind of monster would I be if I left such a beautiful woman crying on the sidewalk, Miss…?”

 

“Danvers, ah, Kara Danvers,” she says in a rush, red rushing up her neck and coloring her cheeks behind the tear tracks, as she grasps your hand and stands (there is no pull on your arm as she rises, you notice. She obviously only grabbed your hand as a formality because she has gotten up totally with her own strength).

 

“Well, Miss Danvers, now I know you and I insist that you let me treat you to another frozen yogurt.” (You’re acutely aware of how warm her palm is pressed against yours and the subtle calluses that you can feel on her fingers and palm hint that there is more to this adorable woman than you can see on the surface. You don’t particularly want to let go of her hand, but you also don’t want to make things awkward so you release her once she has rightened herself.)

 

Kara roughly wipes away the remnants of her tears and fidgets with her glasses before looking back at you again, blush still very much present as she makes eye contact.

 

“Really, Miss Luthor, it’s okay, we’ve just met and I’ve made a fool of myself. You don’t have to get me frozen yogurt, I’ll be okay.”

 

You stand as tall as you can, planting your feet and folding your arms across your chest (you’re pleased to note that with your heels you’re at eye level with Kara and therefore more likely to be taken seriously or seem intimidating. There is a reason you wear at least three inch heels whenever you’re going to work, no matter the future foot pain), “Miss Danvers, I insist that you let me do this.” You soften a bit, “Please. You seemed distressed, can I please just do this for you?”

 

Kara stares into your eyes for a long, drawn out moment and you feel as if she’s looking for something so you stare back as earnestly as you can. You wonder briefly if she recognized your last name and is distrustful of a Luthor, if she is looking for something in your eyes that will prove her (assumed) fears right so that she can deny you and get as far from you as she can. You don’t see any malice in her eyes as you stare back, but you can’t help but worry. But it seems as if your worries are unwarranted, because after a moment Kara is smiling softly at you and nodding.

 

“Okay, Miss Luthor, if you insist.”

 

Brightening immediately, you relax your stance and you can feel another grin spread across your face (you absently note that this is the most you’ve smiled in a while. You don’t want to think of exactly how long).

 

“Excellent,” you say as you turn toward the frozen yogurt shop, unthinkingly hovering your hand at Kara’s lower back to guide her along with you, “but I must also insist that you call me Lena.”

 

Kara smiles back at you, “Lena it is then, but that means you have to call me Kara, okay?”

 

“That can be arranged, Kara.”

 

The two of you step into the shop and you can see the boy behind the counter’s face form a confused frown when his gaze falls on Kara, but the second that his eyes travel to you and he sees the glare you’re sending him, his back straightens and a strained smile takes over his face (he’s obviously intimidated by you and it inwardly fills you with satisfaction).

 

“How can I help you?” he chirps in a faux cheerful voice as you approach the counter.

 

You smile back just as insincerely, “You are to give my companion here whatever she wants, money is no object.”

 

Kara looks at you in awe for a moment and you give her a more genuine smile, “You heard my last name, I can afford to get you frozen yogurt. Go ahead and get whatever you want, don’t worry about the cost.”

 

The blonde’s face blooms into a smile that you could swear outshone the sun and she nearly starts buzzing after your statement. She dashes to the counter, getting the biggest sized cup that they have, first piling it high with her choice of froyo and then descending upon the toppings. You watch in awe as she piles on everything from pecans to gummy worms (you don’t know how she’s going to eat all of it, let alone stomach the mess she’s compiled, but you don’t comment on it).

 

When she’s done, Kara turns her excited and smiling face toward you and you feel yourself blush, cursing your pale complexion. 

 

(It’s like you’ve been starved of light for years and years, only knowing darkness until this bubbly, odd,  _ wonderful  _ woman smiled at you and bathed you in her light. You feel that distinct flutter in your chest, where there had been an uncomfortable stillness for far too long and you know that this one interaction with Kara will not be enough. Now that you’ve experienced her light, you can’t just let her walk out of your life after this).

 

“Aren’t you going to get something too, Lena?”

 

The question is accompanied by an innocent head tilt and you have to look toward the counter to keep from embarrassing yourself as you’re winded by the pure  _ cuteness  _ that just assaulted you.

 

“No I-” you’re about to decline, you had intended to get actual food for lunch, not froyo. But Kara’s face falls a bit into a pout and you’ve just met her yet you’re already weak to it. “Ah, of course.”

 

Kara brightens once more and is nearly vibrating in place, waiting almost patiently as you get a small cup of vanilla with strawberries and pay for both the cups (you don’t comment on the price of Kara’s cup, but you can’t say that you’ve ever paid quite that much for frozen yogurt).

 

Once everything is paid for and squared away, Kara grabs hers and hands over yours, not wasting a moment after grabbing a plastic spoon to shovel a large spoonful into her mouth.

 

You smile at the happy little noise she makes as she eats, quickly spooning some froyo into your mouth to cover it so you don’t seem like a creep. Kara doesn’t seem to notice and starts talking in between heaping mouthfuls.

 

“Usually I prefer ice cream to frozen yogurt, I mean, ice cream is the superior frozen treat after all. I could eat ice cream all the time, it’s like my favorite, right after potstickers- Oh! And pizza! But this place let’s you put  _ whatever  _ you want on your froyo and however  _ much  _ you want, which is just like,  _ amazing!  _ This is the best froyo place in the city, if you ask me. It can get kind of expensive though, which is why I don’t come here that often and-” she cuts herself off, “I didn’t say thank you yet!”

 

She takes her attention from her treat and pierces you with those bright blue eyes, “Lena, thank you for getting me this. You really didn’t have to, I mean, I’m just some weirdo who was crying in the street, and doing this was just so  _ so _ nice of you.”

 

Her sincere thanks has you blushing again and you can feel the heat travel straight down to your neck (god, you’re doing a lot of blushing today. When was the last time you blushed, let alone this much? Middle school? Is this even healthy, to have blood traveling to your face this much in such a short amount of time?).

 

“Kara, it’s nothing, really. Anyone would have done the same.”

 

“But it’s not nothing,” she says earnestly, sticking her spoon in her cup to free up a hand that she then places on your arm, “You stopped and listened to me and you got me more froyo and I’m pretty sure that no just anyone would go through all that trouble. You’ve really helped take my mind off of all that  _ stuff  _ and I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

 

(This is your chance. If you don’t take it, you’ll regret it forever.  _ Ask her. _ )

 

“Actually, Kara,” you take a deep breath (god, why are you so nervous, this is not the first beautiful woman you’ve asked out.  _ Maybe it’s because you secretly hope she’ll be the last. _ You shove that thought away and force yourself to focus on the here and now), “I would really like to see you again if that’d be something you’d be okay with. Would you like to get dinner with me some time?”

 

She looks surprised for a moment and you’re about to open your mouth to backtrack, say it would be only as friends (anything to avoid what you think is a coming rejection) but then that bright smile is back, wide as ever and accompanied by a blush.

 

“Like a date?” You nod mutely, breath stolen by that smile. “I would love to! Hold on.”

 

Kara hands you her cup of rapidly melting froyo and pats at her pockets until she produces a cellphone in a rather beat up case. She takes back her cup and hands you her phone, smiling all the while (you think that a smile is probably her default, she smiles so much that it must be part of her nature. But you can’t help but wonder about her tears and obvious distress earlier and think about just what could be hiding behind that smile. You want to find out, to know her. How are you already in this deep?).

 

“Put in your number and then I’ll text you and we can figure everything out. I kinda should be heading back to the office soon, my lunch break is ending soon.”

 

You add your number quickly, handing the phone back and definitely not suppressing a shiver at the fleeting touch of your hands. “I look forward to hearing from you, Kara, and to that dinner.” (you hope you don’t sound to flustered but you’re self aware enough to know that you do.)

 

The phone in her hand starts buzzing and with a glance at the screen, her smile tightens around the edges. You’re about to ask about it, but just as quickly she’s looking at you and smiling genuinely.

 

“Well, that’s my boss and my queue to get a move on. I’ll text you.”

 

With that, she turns to leave, a whirl of blonde hair and pastel, but right before she gets to the door, she pauses for a moment. Out of nowhere, she pivots on her heel and speeds back to you, surprising you when she presses her lips to your cheek for a quick peck.

 

“Thank you again, Lena,” Kara says in a soft whisper that is spoken nearly into your ear.

 

Kara is out of the shop before you can collect yourself and you’re left blushing madly and clutching your frozen yogurt in the middle of the shop (probably looking like a lovestruck fool). You might have stood there for hours had the boy behind the counter not cleared his throat and jolted you back to reality.

 

You jerk into action, running one hand through your hair and straightening your blouse as you avoid eye contact with the counter boy and try to calmly make your way out of the building. But as you step outside into the sunlight, and are reminded once again of a certain sunny someone, you can’t really fault yourself for the little fist pump you do (not really a becoming action for the CEO of a successful company and a sophisticated grown woman, but who’s to say what’s becoming these days? You just got the promise of a beautiful woman’s number and of a date, you’re allowed a little celebration.).

  
Your little fist pump is nothing compared to your celebration when, in the privacy of your office, you get Kara’s emoji filled text.

**Author's Note:**

> that shit was gay AF lmao  
> catch me at [genderqueermusketeer.tumblr.com](http://genderqueermusketeer.tumblr.com/) if you want  
> i'm p chill i think, we have fun there


End file.
